Snow Creek(54)

Thirty-Five





Troy Whitcomb answers the gleaming mahogany front door before I knock. That quick. He’s older than he sounded on the phone, around sixty, I think. His hair is nearly gone, just a gray halo of duck-down-like hairs on his crown. He’s crumpled, worn out. The bags under his eyes could hold the contents of a family’s trip to the beach.

“Did you have a hard time finding your way here?” he asks, letting me inside. “I thought you’d be here at eight.”

It’s only a quarter past eight, but I offer an apology anyway.

“You know the ferries,” I say.

He looks at me warily.

“Right,” he says. “Extremely unreliable.”

His tone is suddenly accusatory. I wonder if he’s just another of the control freaks that live on that Seattle block.

He yells up the stairs.

“Tyra! The detective is here!”

For such a beaten-down figure, his voice is surprisingly robust.

“I told her why you’re here.”

“Thank you. Is Mrs. Whitcomb home?”

“Susan is dead,” he says. “An accident.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. Car accident?” I scan his face and he cast his eyes away in the direction of footsteps coming toward the stairs.

“No. Boating accident,” he replies. “Please don’t bring it up. Tyra was on the boat with her mom when it happened.”

I nod, but inside all I can think about is the similarity between these two best friends.

One is a liar.

The other could be a killer.

Tyra Whitcomb is gorgeous. Her dark hair has obviously been the work of a stylist. I remember cutting my own hair. I had to. She has bright blue eyes and clear, pale pink skin. She’d be a lovely girl.

If she ever smiled.

I introduce myself.

“My dad says you want to ask me about Ellie.”

“That’s right. I understand you were close, and I know that my coming here might seem like an unwanted intrusion.”

Tyra shrugs her perfect shoulders. “It’s fine. I was a wreck when it first happened, but now I’m feeling okay about it. She’s in a better place.”

She shoots a look of palpable annoyance at her father.

“Dad, do you need to be here? She wants to talk to me.”

Troy begins to shuffle into what I presume is the kitchen.

“All right, but watch your tone, missy,” he says over his shoulder. “You’re getting too big for your britches.”

“Ah,” Tyra snaps behind her father’s back. “No one says that anymore, just so you know.”

We finds seats in the living room. It’s decorated in the matchy-matchy style of a bad interior designer or a woman who feasted on every home design and improvement magazine.

“This room is lovely,” I say.

“Mom’s work,” Tyra replies, rolling her eyes dismissively. “She never saw an animal print or polka dot she couldn’t live without. I hate it.”

“Your dad told me about your mom. I’m so sorry.”

Tyra’s blue eyes go from crystalline to chipped ice. She shifts her body on a zebra-striped armchair. Her fingers quietly gouge at the row of silver studs embedded the length of the armrest.

“Yes, what happened to her mom, happened to me.”

She’s cold and defensive.

“I’ve already told you people that. It’s a coincidence. That’s all.”

I give her some space. “I’m sure it was,” I say. “And really that’s not why I’m here, Tyra. I’m here to learn more about Ellie. It’s possible that she could be alive.”

She shakes her head. “She would have called me. We were best friends. In fact, I was her only friend. Her parents kept her practically locked up. She used to be able to go out, and then, bam, her dad gets all weird and he makes her a prisoner.”

“All weird?” I ask.

“Yeah. Like all of a sudden, he was in charge of the world. Told her what to wear. That makeup was only for sluts. That kind of thing.”

“I heard he was strict,” I say, leaving plenty of room for her to continue.

Tyra’s fingers pick at the studs. I notice now that several are missing.

“Strict are my parents. Mom was the worst. Dad, I don’t know. He tries to be a friend, but he’s just another know-it-all. Ellie’s mom, Carrie, went along with everything that Hudson wanted. She was weak, like she wasn’t even a person.”

I’ve decided I really don’t like this girl. I don’t show it.

“But she was a person, Tyra.”

She makes a dismissive face. “You know what I mean, Detective. She couldn’t stand on her own. Never stood up for Ellie.”

I give her a nod. “Tell me more about Ellie.”

“She was awesome. We used to talk every night. She wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but I got her one and stuck her on our family plan. Told my dad that I needed two phones, one for social and one for school assignments. He never questioned me.”

“What did she talk about? Did she say anything that gave you cause to worry?”

Tyra shakes her head. “No. She was fine. I talked to her the night before they went to Lake Crescent.”